Meng Yang was chattering about the senior boy she'd recently developed a crush on—how handsome he was, how beautiful his eyes were, how dashing he looked in the school uniform. I wasn't really listening. Looking down from the balcony, a familiar figure appeared—the shadow boy walking toward the academic building with a basketball in hand. Ryan. His name was Ryan. I couldn't help touching the spot on my forehead again. I lay on the balcony railing, the moon already risen, my thoughts drifting along the breeze toward the stars. I thought—only the moon could know the secrets of my heart. That day, I carefully wrote in the tiny box of my planner.
September 11, 2018 — Tuesday — Sunny
Shadow Boy — Ryan.
After getting back to the dorm, I hurried to sleep. At Sycamore City High, we only had twenty minutes for washing up before lights out, followed by the long darkness of the night. I must have dreamed again. The moment I opened my eyes, I found I wasn't in the dorm room. There was dirt in my mouth, making me cough. I looked around at my surroundings and went blank. Gunsmoke filled the air, yellow dust everywhere. It was loud—the whinnying of warhorses, the clash of swords and arrows, all mixed into an incomprehensible cacophony. Below my feet was a deep pit, littered with bodies in various gruesome poses. Everything before me exceeded my comprehension—this was a scene I had never experienced. I looked around in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Suppressing my shock, I pinched the palm of my hand. It didn't hurt. I breathed a sigh of relief. But why was I dreaming again? I frowned, trying hard to wake up, but I couldn't. I had no choice but to lean against the edge of the pit and process what I was seeing. Once I settled down and looked more carefully, I realized the pit was indeed filled with bodies in twisted positions, all wearing what looked like ancient Chinese clothing... So I was having a dream set in a time of war? Gory images flashed through my mind. I shot up from the ground, scrambling to pull myself out of the pit. Before I could struggle very far, someone grabbed me from behind. It was a soldier in armor. He held onto me desperately, refusing to let me escape. I pushed at him while screaming. "General, we cannot desert!" I dug in my ears. I was utterly baffled by what I was hearing. My life was on the line—didn't the ancients say, where there's life, there's hope? If not now, when? The soldier wouldn't listen. He insisted I charge forward, and I had to be the one leading the charge. Good heavens, I'd lived a virtuous life, why was I stuck with this mule of a man? Before I could react, he shoved a broadsword into my hands. Before I could figure out what this guy was trying to do, he raised the sword and let out a battle cry, shouting to the troops behind him. "The General says we'd rather die standing than live on our knees! Everyone, charge!" I looked at him in horror, shaking my head frantically. I never said that! The roused soldiers couldn't contain their fervor. They shouted and surged forward, the crowd pushing me along with them. Hoofbeats sounded ahead. I strained to look forward. Before I could see clearly, a tall, lean figure in riding boots dismounted from his horse in one fluid motion and hauled me up by the collar. Then he released me. I landed on my rear, rubbing it as I glumly looked up at the figure towering above me on horseback. The moment I looked up, I was dumbfounded—wasn't this the shadow boy? I saw him dressed in a magnificent red robe, his shoulders broad and waist trim. Seated on his horse, the garment made him devastatingly attractive. He frowned slightly, looking down at me, one hand gripping the reins. He was even more handsome than the male celebrities in movies. He was a couple of steps away from me, but since he was on horseback and I was kneeling on the ground, he looked down while I looked up, and the distance felt both unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Neither of us spoke, sizing each other up, a strange feeling rising between us. Silence fell, as if the entire battlefield had suddenly emptied, leaving only the two of us. Though my status as a prisoner of war felt rather ill-timed. Ryan broke the silence. He dismounted, seeming to walk toward me. But at that crucial moment, the world spun again, and I woke up. I sat up in my dorm bed, still groggy. I looked down at what I was wearing—still my pajamas—and breathed a sigh of relief. The wake-up bell had already rung. Everyone was folding their blankets. I pulled the covers over my face, still thinking about that absurd dream. Was I losing my mind?
After grabbing a meat sandwich with Meng Yang at the cafeteria, we rushed to the classroom. Time was tight—we'd usually buy food ahead of time and eat during the morning reading period. So during those thirty minutes of morning reading, you could smell all sorts of different scents wafting from behind everyone's books. Some people were more discreet and would eat something mild like a small cake. Most opted for some kind of flatbread, and the variety was impressive—crumbly bread, meat sandwiches, stuffed flatbread, egg-stuffed flatbread. The really bold ones would bring instant noodles in a bowl and eat them right at their desks, sharing with their seatmate, crouching under the table to hide from the surveillance cameras and the homeroom teacher peeking through the back door. I looked at my seatmate with a mix of amusement and exasperation—she was half-asleep yet still munching on her corn. My seatmate was a round, chubby girl. Because she loved sleeping, eating, and was excessively cute, plus she wore red-framed glasses, everyone called her Hong Mei. I watched her with a smile, trying to remember what class we had next. Then my smile froze. Oh no, it was math. I shook Hong Mei awake in a panic. "Wake up, wake up! Math class. Did you finish the homework? He's going to lecture on sequences, and he'll call on people!" Hong Mei's eyes flew open. She instantly grabbed her practice workbook and flipped to the assigned page. "Quick, quick, let me copy!" I saw she hadn't done it either, so I whipped my head around to Fan Kaiyi, who sat one aisle away from us, our class's top student. We both stared at Fan Kaiyi desperately. Fan Kaiyi, completely unfazed, pushed up his glasses and slid his workbook over to us. Clutching our lifesaving straw, we went into turbo copying mode. The teacher didn't just check if you'd done the homework—he checked if you had working notes, too. So we had to copy the work as well. We finished copying just before first period started. After handing back Fan Kaiyi's workbook, I checked the time—five minutes to spare. I looked at my watch. Still early, so I went to the corridor for some fresh air. I hadn't been standing long when someone walked toward me from the far end of the corridor, carrying a huge stack of workbooks. I looked up—and my eyes met Ryan's. He paused mid-step, and when he saw it was me, his expression suddenly grew a little unnatural, almost awkward, and he quickly turned his head away. He strode past me into his classroom. I scratched my head, confused. Had I had something on my face? The class bell rang, and I walked back inside.
After a full day of classes, the teacher announced the welcome gala for tomorrow. Our class's performance would be Meng Yang's folk dance. I turned and gave Meng Yang a secret thumbs-up. Meng Yang caught my meaning and shot me a wink. That evening during study hall, I wrote in my planner.
September 13, 2018 — Thursday — Sunny
A strange dream. Then I drew a little defeated war captive and a lofty general. I couldn't help but smile at my planner. Hong Mei gave me a look that said "there goes another lovestruck girl." The next day, Meng Yang got up early for the dress rehearsal. I was still bummed that I hadn't dreamed about Ryan that night. When I got to the classroom, there weren't many people around. I was about to take a bite of the corn I'd bought when the homeroom teacher rushed in—startled me so much I almost dropped my corn as I quickly hid it behind my back. She scanned the room, spotted me, and her eyes lit up. "Lin Jingjing? Come help me with something, quick." I tucked the corn away and scurried over to her. She gave me an approving look, then explained, "We're short someone to present awards at the welcome gala tonight. Time is tight—go get changed quickly and report to Teacher Wang on the first floor of the arts building." I was increasingly confused, but she didn't give me time to process—she was already pushing me out the door. I ran, still trying to figure out if I'd just been voluntold for something. When I got there, I found Teacher Wang, who took one look at me and immediately sent me to change. In the fitting room, I stared at the high-slit red cheongsam and the high heels at my feet, lost in thought. They fit, but I'd never worn high heels before. I felt unsteady, walking with a slight wobble.